"We've finished shopping, and Harry and I are going home.
Professor Dumbledore, if I'm not mistaken, my Aunt Lily and Uncle James were on your side, fighting against Voldemort, weren't they?
As the family of wizards who sacrificed themselves under your leadership, I believe we have the right to know the full story.
Please come to 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, by midnight tomorrow to explain the circumstances surrounding Lily and James' deaths.
Additionally, if you have any other requests, we can discuss them tomorrow.
Don't be late. By the day after tomorrow, I'll have made my decision—whether we stay in Britain or move abroad.
This isn't a threat. You don't have to come.
But if you don't, by the time Harry and I return here, nothing you say or do will influence us in the slightest."
Dudley spoke with utmost seriousness, ignoring Dumbledore's increasingly troubled expression.
He wanted to give Harry closure, give himself an opportunity, and offer Dumbledore a chance.
The butterfly had already stirred the storm, and the future was no longer clear. So why not let the storm rage even fiercer?
"Dudley, I disagree with your phrasing. Lily and James were my comrades, my teammates, not just followers... But fine, I'll come tomorrow. There are things I need answers to as well. A direction!
As for whether you go abroad or to Hogwarts, I hope you and Harry will consider it carefully."
Dumbledore looked weary, his face a mix of emotions. In just a few hours, he seemed to have aged a decade.
His heart was heavy.
But what he didn't know was that it was about to get even heavier.
"I look forward to your visit," Dudley said impassively, then handed over the certificate Ollivander had written. "This is your payment. Thank you for breaking Ministry rules to create an unregistered, expanded suitcase for me."
Dudley's words were still laced with barbs, a response to Dumbledore's earlier attempt to separate him and Harry in the conversation.
Even if Dumbledore hadn't enchanted the suitcase, Dudley would have given him the certificate.
The reason was simple: he wanted Dumbledore to feel even more overwhelmed. It would help in tomorrow's negotiations.
After handing over the document, Dudley turned and walked away, saying, "Hagrid, I'll have Professor Dumbledore return your dried coat tomorrow. And keep in touch, my friend."
"Huh? Oh, right! I'll write to you both!" Hagrid replied, his usual cheerful self.
He had realized something: as long as Dudley and Harry didn't outright oppose Dumbledore, their friendship could remain intact.
With that thought, his heart felt lighter.
Dumbledore, however, couldn't share Hagrid's newfound optimism. In the vault, he had seen Dudley retrieve the cracked wand from the rubble.
At the time, the attacker had turned to ash, making identification impossible.
He had assumed Voldemort had possessed some unfortunate wizard, never imagining it was Quirinus Quirrell, a brilliant Ravenclaw graduate and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor he had personally hired.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts position had long been cursed by Voldemort, who had failed to secure the job. Every professor who took the role met with disaster within a year—death or incapacitation.
But Dumbledore had never expected Quirrell to fall victim to the curse before even starting the job.
Even as Voldemort's host, the curse had claimed him.
Dumbledore was deeply troubled. Quirrell was dead, and Hogwarts was set to open in a month.
He needed to find another qualified, willing wizard to fill the cursed position—this year's sacrificial lamb, or rather, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Frowning, Dumbledore and Hagrid watched as Dudley and Harry passed through the Leaky Cauldron's back wall and left Diagon Alley.
With a sigh, Dumbledore placed a hand on Hagrid's arm and Apparated away.
Both he and Hagrid needed to return to Hogwarts to process everything.
Dudley and Harry boarded the train back to Little Whinging.
It was past noon, and Harry's eleventh birthday had been nothing short of thrilling, dangerous, and eventful.
"Cousin, you don't need to overthink things. Wasting time isn't your style," Harry said suddenly, stroking Hedwig's feathers.
"It's you who's overthinking, Harry," Dudley replied with a smile. "Today was a lot to process. We all need time to digest it. I'm not delaying the conversation with Dumbledore just because it's your birthday."
"I knew it!" Harry pouted. "I'm tough! And the situation is pretty clear.
Because of a prophecy, Voldemort went on a killing spree, targeting my parents and eventually me—his supposed downfall. Dumbledore wants to mold me into his weapon to finish him off. But his methods are flawed, and you don't like them."
"Very astute," Dudley said, ruffling Harry's messy hair. "That's the main outline, but there are details we need to clarify.
Voldemort was a ruler. He didn't act alone; he had followers. Dumbledore might overlook them, but we won't.
When we seek revenge, we'll make sure everyone involved pays—the mastermind and the accomplices alike!"
"Exactly! Everyone who hurt my parents will pay!" Harry said firmly. Growing up with Dudley, he wasn't about to become a pushover.
"But cousin, what's your real opinion of Dumbledore? After today, I'm not sure what to think," Harry asked, puzzled. "My parents fought alongside him against Voldemort. We should be on his side, but his actions... they're confusing."
"Remember the first name Dumbledore called out when he entered the scene?" Dudley asked, steering the conversation.
Harry thought for a moment. "He called my name first, then Hagrid's, asking if we were okay."
"You and Dumbledore had just met today, yet his first concern was you, not Hagrid, who he's incredibly close to. Why is that?
Hagrid had just been rescued from unconsciousness, while you were unharmed and fully conscious the whole time," Dudley explained, guiding Harry to the answer.
"So... in Dumbledore's mind, I'm more important than Hagrid?" Harry deduced logically.